JUST MUSE 
DOWN DEEP IN THE WOODS 

AND 

OTHER POEMS 



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BY 



Mr8. M. McNamar. 



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INTRODUCTIVE 



VERSE 



Then permit me to revel in the wealth of all verse, 

And forbid me no part of their themes; 
For the poets have written, their thoughts to dispersej 

That others might share in their dreams. 
In words gracet'ullv framed they the topic define, 

In soft language that ebbs and flows; 
They bear me away on the bosom of rhyme 

To the land of Peace and Repose. 

Prehaps it may be in the majestic lines 

Of the grand old masters of song; 
In their heavier themes that my spirit finds 

Strength, as my tranquil mood they prolong. 
They hold sweeping power, ray mind to immerse* 

Like the tide thaf; engulfs where it flows; 
They bear me sway on the billows of verse, 

Td the land ot Peace and Repose^ - 



JUST MUSE. 



MIDNIGHT UNDER CALIFORNIA SKIES 

I sleep and I dream — 
That I sail the sea of deepest blue, 
Where all the stars are merrored true, 
And the wanmg moon is reflected too 

From the depths of its calm still face- 
On this sea that touches no clifF or shore, 
That has no breakers to rock and roar, 
Like a phantom my ship is sailing o'er, 

As smoothe as if gliding through space. 

On the deck I repose in my steamer chair 
And I feel the touch of the cool night air, 
As I view the fairy like scene from there. 

Through the masts of my o^^n flying bark. 
Other phantom ships go sailing by 
With never a sound as their way they ply, 
And never a message or a signal fly, 

As they go seeking some far distant mart. 

Those phantom ships are all white or gray* 
And they are ail BaiHng the self same way,. 
And not one ot them lingers or cares to stay 
Her speed till the joamey's complete. 
But my ship is not painted white or gmy. 



And 1 sail in the opposite way from they, 
Neither do I tarry or pause to say 
One viord to that flying fleet- 

And now I behold a wreck on the deep — 
A frail little bark that had failed to keep , 
Pace with the other ships of that fleet 

Disappeared from the fairy -like scene. 
But another great ship met a fate much worse. 
When, heedless of danger, she steai ed her course 
Right onto the shores of a rock bouad coast; 

The shock startled me out of dream. 

Ah! It wasn't a dream, I was wide awake, 
I was only allowing my fancy to take 
Me sailing away in its own wild wake. 

On the breast of the midnight breeze. 
The sea, in ray fancy, was the great blue sky, 
The ships, the white clouds that go sailing by, 
And my deck chair, the cot upon which I lie 

Out under my own fig trees 

The masts of my ship was a giant branch, 
The sails were the leaves that toss and dance, 
And they appear the part in the careless glance, 

That it pleases my fancy to give. 
That rock bouiid coast was the mother cloud's breast, 
Where all the little clouds fly to rest. 
Now long before this I know you have guessed 

The land where I've chosen to live. 



HEAVENLY GLIMPSES. 

Down deep in the blush of the rose . I see 

A pietare from another world given, 
I cannot decide just what it can be. 

Unless ^tis the sunrise in heaven. 

On the petals of the lily there seemB to gleam 

The purity of immortal things, 
Must be the reflection of some heavenly scene, 
Prehaps 'tis of the angels' wings. 

But in a little chili's smiling, innocent face 

Shines a vision far more fair. 
Than in anything else of terrestrial grace, 

For heaven, itself is imaged there. 

LIFE'S GREATEST MOMENTS. 

Life's greatest moments spent with a friend — 

With some dear soul whose musings and meditat- 
ions seem to blend 
And beat in harmony with those of our ow^, 

As a sweet song and its melodious chords arc one 
in tone. 

Life's dearest moments spent with a friend- !- 

With some loved one whose sweet compauioaship 
seems te lend 



Inspiratiovt of soul, tood for mated minds. 

Our thoug'hts move in unison, our desires one in 
kind. 

liite's sweetest moments spent with a friend — 

■^ome loved companion we've known long since, or 
then - 
Perhaps 'tis an erstwhile friend who feels 

With lis, this atomement of spirit and a compact of 
fellowship seals. 

Life's choicest moments spent with a friend — 

It may be just a day or an hour of sweet «ommun> 
ion that trends 
I'o lead us upward and onward to a loftier throf ne 
Of aspiration and thought than we'd have reached 
if we'd striven alone. 

Life's {greatest moments spent with a friend-- 

With some ne'r forgotten person whose fellov^ship 
will not end ^ 

With the parting of ways, for we've lived the divine. 
And the deep impressions of kindred minds are not 

subject to absence or to time. 

THE CAGED LION. 



To and fre, to and fro. 
Those iron bars are but prison walls, 

To and fro. to and fro. 
The great oat-doors to his spirit calls. 



In his soler^m, utea'^eless aud nervous tread 
He seems to be avoiding some hidden dread, 
^^e is all unmindful of the curious throng, 
That view him the whole day long. 

Up and down, around and around, 
H*rom this prison he longs to escape; 

Up, and down, around and around. 
Would that providence could open the gate. 
v/an any who look upon him fail to see 
That he was never ment for captivity. 
And in appeasing the restlessness of his soul. 
His body is paying the toll. 

Out in the tree where it was his to be, , 
Without caution or fear he walked alone » 

Over the bramble and over the lee, 
The forest trees were the walls of his home. 
And he ruled that home in all majesty, 
None disobeyed the command ot his excellency. 
For then he was king of the wonderful wild. 
But now he is a broken exile. 

How is it man places a ban 
Upon the freedom of the least of this land? 

How is it man places a ban- 
And defies the work of a mightier hand? 

W^oald thit humanity saw no pleasure or peace 
Except in the comforts ot the the gres^tiest or least, 
Would that forever the will of man 
Oeased the opposing of nature's great plan. ^ 



WHATS THE USE? 

I h«\'p ao an honest debt to pay, 

Whats the us e? 
When so many others say 

"^Vhats the use?" 
Just to have no man to fear. 
Just to keep a friend sincere. 
Just to feel nay conscience clear; 
Thats the use> 

We may strive co do the right, 

But whats the use? 
When so many others treat it light. 

So whats the use? 
Just to know we've do»e our best, 
Just to know we've stood the test 
Nor am I satified with less ; 
Thats the use* 

I " hitch my wagon to a star, " 

Whats the use? 
It may never get me far. 
So whats the use? 
I'ho my dreams I never realise^ 
It will be a joy to strive 
For the highest goal or prise; 
Thats the use. 



I'd rather be a servent in a well 
ordered household as to be a gvesi 
in the home of confusion^ I'd rsther 
dwell in hanble obseuriety as to be • 
mler and know no seelvfioB. 



A BIDE A WEE. 

Suji>;>a-e I sh^ ild be called o\\ a journey, 

Tu H land far over the sea, 
^ Trie re would be no joy in the plaaiiing 

[f ther'=i were noae to say me a bide a wee.' 
None to have a part in the preparations. 

No loved one. no comrade, no friend, 
There would be a sadness in the embarking. 

No matter how pleasant the end. 

If I should sit in the even-tide, 

Llqtenin^ to the bells ot the gray twilight, 
Ther-^ would be no melody in their chiming, 

vVith no friends to wish me a sweet goodnight. 
If I must be a solitary listener, 

The bells will bring feelings forlorn, 
Arad there would be a chill in the twilight. 

No matter how glorious the coming morn- 

And when 1 approach the autumn days 

Of this on fleeting life year, 
There will be no joy in the yule-tide 

If no loved ones are hovering near. 
And when the last day and the hour approaches 

There will be a void, an uncertainty 
If uo dear one is near to comfort me, 
•■^Uid wish mti to bide a wee. 

Then giv r xne a triend— a companion^ 
Some one to watch for my coming bark, 

^oiiae ofiie.to* listen for the bell that 97ill satnoions, 
vVheu the twilight succumbs to the dark- 



1 here will be no chill, no loneliness 

In the close of that day tor me, 
With some dear one near to sustain and sooth^ 

And say to me "Bide a wee.** 



THE DESERT'S OWN. 

It is a place not ment for mortal to tread. 

But where man has stalked without fear or dread, 

Rij^ht into the wild and wilderness waste. 

And strove to conform himself to the place. 

He has failed, for this is the land forgfotten by Godl, 

And into it's area no man should have trod, 

"i^OT thousrh he may strive in harmony to be, 

N»'v<-r a part of this de«ert land is he. 

Korei^jn to hrm are those shiftinif sands 
That at the whip of the winds defaces the lands. 
And covers his path as if a flood had surged. 
And all traces of landmarks submerged. 
Desolation and drought are the chiefest charms, 
Excepting the mirage and that lures him to harm. 
It consummates his death in the bed of a sunken sea» 
And gives his body to it's own as a fee. 

But what is it's own- what belongs to this waste.^ 
'Tis a thing of the desert and with the desert's taste* 
And like the desert he spots his prey ere *tis dead^ 
Beginning: distruetion as soon as the life breath has 

fled. 
As desolate as the land are his dismal howls^ 
As over the arid and sun baked sand he prowls. 
In the heart of this wasteful, wilderness, wild, 
Lives the coyote, traely the desert's own child. 



DKATH 



With his poisonous wand J>eath ^net.ps ©ver the 
werld on wings 
That carry him swift and tar; 
Under his devastating power all thinirv hf bfJBgs, 

And no region his presence cant bar 
He turfiS hig face toward the arid plaior of the desert 
wild, 
And some helpleas victim tails at his quest, 
He flies into the froaen no^th and prececler to defile 
What ever pleases his fancy the best 

Vi'r- IS ail. unwelconne visitor none can seek Ic evade. 

He cometh at noon, at night or at raoirj^ 
The vales, hills and mountains are his to inyade, 

A.nd he spots his victim as soon as Has foom. 
\1e dares to lay hands to the most prePiGus thing^s 
we hold. 

He takes a little or he takes our all. 
We are powerless to resist him for he's a. buirglar bold 

And we, ourselves must came at his «alJ.. 

No lily is too fair for his deadly clutch. 

No fllovs^er so delicate that he will mot slay 
No palm tree is so stately that he will iQOt touch 

And spoil it's beauty with grim decay" 
Yonder hill held it's monumenli, seemed a gift of time„ 

t*rom it*s destruction all would refTaim^ 
Yet Deatl* laid his hand even to that grmelml pine> 

And the cones never grew again. 

l^c in his ruthless devastation he dared to toiBch 
Ever, the brow of the Holy Christ, 



10 



'Vhf vt-ry earth trembled with awe that he dared so 
much. 
And for a moment that touch sufficed- 
But it was the prophets of old, who, in their wisdom, 
had said 
'Dissolution the Christ shall not see' 
They looked and beheld Him — the Christ was not 
dead. 
Bat He lived — and He liveth through eternity, 

"I ara the Resurection and the Life" sayeth He- 

'I am victor over death that all men may 
Cometh iato eternal life by me. 

And "My word shall not pass away.*" 
rhough Death has despoiled and laid waste his 
myriads of things. 

In the Holy Writ this promise we find 
That, which is not subject to his venomous sting 

is the Immortal Soul of mankind^ 



PEOPLE WE ALL KNOW. 



There was once a man of wonderful successes^ 
By his striving he had won a great name. 

The world wreathed him with glory 

It shouted his story 

Ai„d claoiored to share in his fame. 
But this same man made many sad failures^ 
VVhk'h to the world were all unknown. 
Nor did any one care 
His disappointni ents to share, 
Thost iaxlures were all Ms alone. 



11 



A lady, b} her deeds of great kindness. 
Scattered happiness and sunshine abroad, 

At her feet the world bowed 

It proclaimed her aloud 
And each deed it made haste to applaud. 
But this same lady met a great sorrow. 
It shrouded her life like a pall, 

But the world claimed no part 

In the grief of her heart, 
It had no place in the mourning at all. 

We a'l ksow the man of wonderful successes, 
We all know the lady of good deeds well done; 

And they both have been glad 

That the whole world has had 
A share in the glories and honors they've won. 
We all know the man who made many failures. 
We all know the lady with the sorrows unknown. 

Because the world never knew 

They were glad of that too 
They had rather suffer the trials alone- 



TRUTH. 

Man, in his unstaple building. 

Places timbers but to decay and fall. 
Nature, in her infinite mercy, 

Drapes and shields from the eyes of all. 
^^an wanders apart from the pathway 

That leads to the perfect, and right. 
Truth, divine, si|entlyfoUo.^5 , ^^ ^ ,, ^> 

In his wake; and wipes out thie blight, 



12 



MY PLACE IN LINE. 

Eet^^eeu the trend of the ages that has vamslhie^ 

And the ages of all future time- 
Coiues the age of the present, and I wonder 

Why I am permitted to call it mine. 
Nor can it be said it was mere happening 

To be introduced to my earthly estate 
In the present instead of the dim, dim past. 

Or reserved for some future date- 



For in all the world and it's workiags^ 

As it majestically moves along, 
There cannot be found in existance 

One atom that has been placed a wrong. 
Perfect in all it's immensity. 

In it's substance, it's time and it's pase, 
Complete in each minute detail, 

As a leaf is complete, or a rose. 

And, like the chapter unfolds in the story. 
Time has ushered in the present age, 

hnd among the innumerable characters 

I appear, but a dot on the printed page. 

But as the dot may complete some sentence. 
Nor has it been stationed amiss in the Hne* 

I to(?„ tor some reason, have been given 
Ai)laee in God's plan, divine. 

Sc Wiethe? 1 stand with the greatest. 

Or the iowiier Hot falls as mioej 
i anri part of the wonderloil everything 

Tihat 'was pkimBedl in the beginning of time, 



IS 



14 either can I fail to see the njiasnaniniity. 
At its consummation my soul does appall, 

Nor will I tail to bow down and worship 
The Creator and Giver of it alL 



ORDERS MISUNDERSTOOD. 

The new baby — he would be such a treasure. 

He would be their own beautiful boy. 
To his mother a precious darlin^r. 

To his daddy a pride and a joy, 
A pleasure and % comtbrt through his childhood. 

He would be such a fine little lad 
And when he {^rew into his manhood 

He would be a real help to his dad. 
When finally the day for the arrival 

Had come, and it didn't seem hardly fare 
To be banished to the front parlor 

To wait for the new-comer there 
But at last nurse came to announce it, 

She paused, and before she could utter a Word^ 
^Tom the lips of that excited new daddy 

Good forty questions she heard- 
"Is he here, and when, where, and how long? 

And now may I come up and see? 
Is he big, little, blue eyes or black hair? 

Do you think that he looks like me?" 
But the nurse, all cdol and collected 

Stood there like a statue, yeu see, 
'"^Sir, I'm obliged to inform you , 

That she isn't a 'he,' he's a'she'" 



14 



m. ADOE.^BlE NEICE AND HER BEAU. 

A cozy chair and a book, of the story land kind, 
A foot stool and chocolates, myself all resigned 
'•"or an afternoon 'comfy' by a raised window blind, 

To rest, read and dream at sweet will. 
No, not at sweet will, for out there on the lawn 
Sits two happy creatures as fresh as day dawn, 
Detricting my thoughts, and oh how I long 

To peek over that window sill 

Desire, is always persistive, I yield to the will, 
A scene so enchanting, a stone heart would thrill, 
1 enjoy a»d admiVe, till perched on the sill 

Comes a monster with eyes of green hue. 
Out there, my neice and her beau- 'tis her very first- 
In their isle of seclusion— what villian would durst 
Break iato that haven of bliss, all unversed- — 
But the monster is obstructing my view. 

But why this monster at all, when I, too, have had 
All the pleasures that trend to make the heart glad. 
And honor, and prestage— now I know it is bad 

For that monster to be sitting there. 
Not because of worldly goods th6»se two ehildren own. 
For they sit in my chairs on the lawn at my honae, 
And not because I am sitting here quite alone, 

I am not envious of a friendship, so fair. 

The truest of friends have always been mine, 
Nor do I begrudge that pair of their idle time. 
Nor <Q>f fairness of forms or faces, so fine, 
Td aot eovet In a manner so tame. 



15 



I di> not envy that boy of a smile, justly earned, 
Or her the fond one that he gives in return, 
Ah me! It is wicked, but still I discern 
The monster sitting there just the same. 

Another stolen glance and there now comes to me 

The reason tor that stab of mad jealousy, 

Tis revealed in the blushes that I chanced to see — 

Blushes experieence will never improve. 
Blushes, born of hearts so free from all care, 
iBefore sorrow or wisdom has had any place there. 
But innoffence and timidity of the young and the fair. 
Shy uncertainties time, alone, will remove. 



Tis the joy of youth that I see in each face, 
Adorning them both with charm and with grace, 
'Tis the felicity time will so swiftly out race, 

Seems the flight of my own was all wrong. 
But where, and how, and when did it go? 
*Tis another mystery, and none of us ever will know« 
They have theirs now, my adorable niece and her beau, 

I look again and the monster is gone. 



BLESSINGS, THINE AND MINE. 

'I'here is a light a silvery light 

Coming down from the moon in the, silent night, 

With fairy hands 

It touches the lands, ,. 
Aod scatters the gloom £rom the se^^' 
Tibis light its shining for thee and me* 
'Tis shining for thee a»d me. 



U 



There is a note a twittering note. 

Flung to the breeze by a ruffled throat. 

It has it's part 

In gladdening the heart. 
Perched high in the old apple tree. 
This bird is singing for thee and me. 
*Tis singing for thee and me. 

There is a day, a lovely day, 

It may come in mid-winter or balmy May, 

A jewel m line 

Set by Father Time 
In the crown of years given to me and thee- 
*Tis this day that has dawned for me, for me. 
This day thats for thee and me. 

The flowers, the grasses and trees. 
The rivers and mountains and seas. 

The bees and the birds, 

The fields and their herds, 
The heavens above, 
The friends that we love. 

The rhythms that Vote 

Of song or of note, 
Or just the laugh of a child in it's glee 
Are some of God's blessings for thee and me, 
God's blessings for thee and me. 

THK MESSENGER. 

Like the flight of ths carrier pigeon, 
A messenger has fiown throughout all space. 

Into remote and boundless regions, 
And never a halt in the pace. 



17 



Nc'ither did it retura tVorn the distant waadeniaj^s, 
Till it gleaned tor man the secret that he bid it bring. 



J^ike the tryst of the carrier pigeon , . 

Che messenger i;etarned from some distant pi&ce, 
Brinafing the deepest theme of a mighty religion, 

Saatched tVom a pedestal where it posed in space. 
This, the message gleaned from earth, her waters aad 

all heaven above, 
That the greatest thing in all the universe is love. 



THE DESERT RAT. 

He was only a prospector, bronzed, stiffened and thin, 

William Baily, his common place name, 
''-^esert Rat" was the '^nick" that just fitted him. 

His pitience and persistence earned him the same. 
And chough 'Bill' wis now well up in years 

He still heeded the lure of gold, 
Desert life, to him, held no terrors or fears, 

But griped him with a grip that holds. 

In the fruitless years that he'd haunted the land 

In statue, in mind, in desire he grew 
To be tipical of the eternal sand, 

His vitality as enduring too. 
P'ew friends were his, and few he sought, 

His faithful burro seemed the most true, 
He cared little for comforts, for pleasures nought, 

^s he traversed the desert through. 



18 



Weeks he speit ia the heart of the waterless waste* 

>'Vith fiithfal Jinny trudging at his heels, 
Meager his wants, and more meager his tastes, 

S*>iaty his drink, and ni3re seinLy his msals^ 
Bill saw little of vegetable^ less ot animal kind* 

The tsid5-v7inJ8r3 were mare friends than enemies 
he*d meet 
And though the sun heat down> he did not mind 

When the sand reflected lt*s intollerable heat. 

His one desire, the desire for gold. 

Tnat mine with it's fabalous wealth he mast find; 
The incontrollable lure has otten laid hold 

And destroyed a much stronger mind. 
Uudaunted by failure. Bill always planned 

On the luck be wDuld some day realize; 
Bat the coveted treasure, always just beyond haii4^ 

One more trip and he'd land the prize. 

As in time the prospector becomes the Desert Rat, 

Though he lose his ambition or change his will 
fie would still remiin, but he deems not that 

The desert and it's sands would know him still. 
It has power to charm, and the victom hold, 

And for the peculiar facination there is no cure; 
The Rat may count it but the passion for gold, 

'Tis the desert, itself that has become the lure. 

B jt there are times when even the burro will fail 
Her master, and refuse his fate to share, 



t Side-winder is the name given to rattle snakes in the 
saiath- western deserts of Uaited States. 



19 



And to toll her away from the unbeaten trail 
\ faint scent of moisture coming from— G^d knows 
where. 
Th'-y had pierced the unknown farther than ^vei be- 
fore, 
When the prospector chanced to look back; 
A deep sand wash, bushes of sage, nothing more, 
But obscure was Jinny and her bunglesome pack. 

'*Hello! Wei' now Jinny, stealin' a march on a fellert 

An' 'tain't like ye ol' gal, not a bit. 
This desertin' of yer pal, an' I was strikin' a coler. 
But I'll find ye, now don't ye fergit. 
No wonder the ol' gal was all out o' sorts! 

'Should o' give her a drink 'while ago, 
Waen I stopped to examine them specimans o' quarts. 
Com- to think that water jug's runnia' low.'* 

'Never mind Jinny, you'll be livin' in clover 

When— when — '^unny, I don*t see her tracks." 
But the burro heard not, it was staggering over 

The desert with the water jug strapped to it's back. 
'1 reckon I can find ye, things lots worse 

Has happened to me than losin' sight of a burr* 
like you." 
Aod 'twas odd that the prospector shifted his course 

Just as the wind would be shifting too. 

'Strange! J must be gettin' mixed up, I sware 

1 was lacin' that wind 'while ago; 
Must o' turned clean round *stead o' half, I declare 

I'll be gettin' daffy first thing 1 know." 



20 



There were hills to the left and hills to the right. 

Two rows, as like as two rows of peas. 
And the floor of the desert under the glare ot light. 

Was as unmarked as the breast of the seven seas. 

''To them that ain't cot no sense o' direction 

It may be kind o' mysterious like, 
But you bety I've got it all down to perfection — 

P'unny, Jinny took a notion to hike." 
There comes a tinge of remorse when the Desext E»t 
feels 

His perfect knowledge of **where'* slipping away, 
•But he must hasten on, for fate often seals, 

A destiny, almost in a single day. 

Four and twenty hours spent in the unspeakable heat 

Without drink, a man's reason hangs by a thie&di. 
Now the prospector had rambled far off his beat. 

And tottering and uncertain was his tread, 
"^■oroe on, now Jinny! It's time for a drink, 

Heres to ye fer luck— What, not comin' to me? 
Oh, I recollect now — I can't seem to think, 

An' some how I don't seem to see.' 

And— **Ye may shift where ye will ye can't get me I 

No difference where the ol' wind blows 
1 know where I am — yes sir-ee, 

You bet, old Bill Bally always knows." 
tut the prospectors laugh was now a mere cackle, 

His gate was that of the blind, 
Under his feet the baked sand crackled, 

He was wandering like in his mind. 

But it was not strange that one with an eye so traiaed* 
Even in this unfavorable plight should recognize 

21 



1 1 that bronze and black stone in deep yellow stss r.ed, 

And instantly know that he'd found the priiie- 
In a frenzied moment he drove his pick through the 
stone, 
The cry of ^'Gold! Gold!" tell from parching lips. 
Those fragments of rock revealed to his eyes alone 
A fortune. "Ah I knew I'd find it this trip" 

The half dazed man threw himself on the ground, 

He gathered those stones in his trembling hands. 
He cuddled them, hugged them, laughed, laid them 
down. 
And snatched others fr^m the crumbling sands-. 
As he stared at the face of them, to that fever-mad 
brain, 
Those specks of gold became as the stones in size. 
The stones became boulders, and again aud again 
He tried to estimate the value of his prize. 

Have I said fabalous wealth? It was beyond the 
man's dreams; 

Full half the hill side was a ledge of that stone, 
And for this the Desert Rat had given all, it seems 

Only for a moment to call it his own. 
But the second day, without drink, in this hot land, 

A drop of water is more than riches untold. 
But the desert offers none, it gives only Sand, 

Tandalizes, and taunts with it's treasures of gold> 

But even in this hour of intense physical distress 
Banished were the thoughts that he'd lost his way; 

Even now he was blinded and drunk with success, 
And heeded not the price he was soon to pay. 

With a body so strained the mind could not hold, 

22 



It wavered, it rested on a brink — 
" 'Onie on new Jinny, I've found a mountaiin of g;o!i(i, 
1 can buy — I can buy — I'll bay us a drink " 

A precious stone held in the outstretched hand 

"^'ome on now Jinny, ye can have a tew sips," 
Thin the stone fell to the ground, a handful of sodik 

Was conveyed to his own swollen lips. 
That too, cast aside, for a beautiful lake 

Appeared with it's palm studded shore. 
With a struggle the prospector managed to take 

A few steps toward it then beheld it no more. 

"Ho! I don't want a lake» I'm a rich man now! 

I can buy a whole ocean, eh Ji«ny, jes think ~ 
No! I remember now I'm — your lost, but I vow 

I'm goin* to— Jinny I'll give ye a drink. - 
An' I'll find ye too, jes as I said I would, 

I'll get the location *soon as I see the north star^ 
Yo 1*11 be glad too Jinny that your ol' pal's made good^^ 

I know ye havn't strayed very far.** 

One last feeble step, the prospector fell with a cry 
At the foot of the mountain ot Life- long Desire! 
Though Lethean depths sparkled where e'er he c*«t 
his eye. 
It soothed him not, his thirst was now burning fire. 
But it was yet high noon on that arid plain, 
And the famishing man thought of his burro n^ 
more, 
Nor again of his gold, but of his thirst and pain, 
And in the moment of passing o'er- 



23 



His childhood homCj it's fields ot waving grass, 

A cottage, his mother stood in the door; 
' iVas just a fleeting glimpse of the long dead past, 
It had been years since he*d thought of it before. 
Aoain he became a tired thirsty child, 

He turned to his mother, who always kinew his 
need, 
F'aithful to him, but now she not even smiled, 
She was silent and seemed hardly to heed« 

It was unique tljat even in the last thought he'd see 

His own little mug held in her outstretched hand. 
But it was the irony of fate, perfect mockery 

That she, too, offered him a cup of sand. 
As the sun sank behind the low hill in the west 

The shadow crept upon a corpse, 'twas strange 
That the Desert Rat found his eternal rest 

In the shadow of the Funeral Range. 

But there was no funeral that, nor the following day., 

For the desert offers no shroud, no pall; 
It softens not the event by floral display, 

There is just death and oblivion, thats all. 
And with the last drawn breath the work is complete. 

Even the monument is placed, a cactus straggling 
and old. 
But it will endure for ages, and at the prospector's 
feet 

A broken stone^ brilliant with it's settings of ,'gold. 



S4i 



IF I HAD A MILLION BUCKS- 



Well now, let me see 
Just where I would be 

H I should diop heir to a million bucks. 
Don't think that I'd cry 
If grand "unkie" would die, 

Far by that he would pass me ray luck. 
I'd go in for a spree, 
One grand jubilee. 

Just as long as I rattled that mon' 
My pals and I 
We'd sure live on pie, 

And you bet, we'd play second for none. 

I'd see the old planet 

And all there is in it. 
Before I run through with them bucks. 

And old Johnnie D. 

Would have nothing on me, 
For I'd ride- Overland, De Lux. 

And no old conduc* 

Could hustle me up. 
Or make me jump quick when he speels 

"All aboard," Oh fudge 

I'd not have to budge 
Vd own the old palace on wheels. 

I'd travel by boat, 
The biggest afloat; 
Built speedy and fitted up mighty grand. 
With a hxncy saloon 
And A Ing dancin* room^ 



25 



Servants, sailors and a classy brass band- 
And no old sea chap. 
Not even the cap 
^^ould order me *round, tore or aft. 
You bet, by heck 
I'd boss the eld deck^ . 
I'd be own'en the whole dog-goned cra:ft. 

I only would go 

To the classiest show* 

" Big hits" of the season I'd sec. 

And them smart usher guys 
A lookin* so wise i 

Wouldn't dare to say "gallery** to me. 
That Hockiebuilt bunch 
Would sure get a hunch 

And off up the stairs they'd scaddoodle^ 
My pals rd treat 
To the very best seats. 

And we'd take up the whole caboodle* 

l*d order some dinners 

That sure would be winners. 
That four hundred gang I'd outshine, 

And up at the Astor 

They'd hop around faster 
When Pd take my gal up there to dine<^ 

Just as long as my dough 

Held cat I would go 
For a high old time- but O shucks. 

No use to blow 

For the ain't no show 
Of mt gettin' them million bucks. 



86 



ETERNAL DESIRE 



Up, up the mountain of Eternal Desire, 

With it's shadowy winding trail; 
A pedestrian will stand ot the foot and aspire 

The height of the summit to scale. 
Solititiy is the peak, lone is the trails 

Individual the one to admire 
Then start the ascent and nevermore know eontetut 

Climbing the mountain of EternaJ Desire. 

At first it rose up, just a smooth litUe Mil, 

All grasses and ferns and flowers, 
Then the pathway led through a thatch, by a rill 

And on upwaid neath green leafy bowers. 
This all passed through, still it grew and it sj-rew. 

There were ledges with bramble and brier; 
When that, too, is climbed, a pause but to find 

The beginning of the mountain of Eternal Depiire 

But up yonder ahead lies a pleasanter slope^ 

And to reach it a hastening on^ 
With never a falter, not a doubt in the hope 

That the summit will appear before long . 
The trail is tedious and rough, there's es-a^ »tM 
there's bluff. 

Yet none was ever known to tire. 
Or tarry or stay or Ml by the way 

Climbing the mountain of Sternal D@Mf® , 



«T 



One more rugged steep to be mounted with might, 

One more terraced slope comes to view; 
Life long the ascent, inaccessible the height. 

The scenes along the path ever new. 
But the trail is lost when the river is to be crossed, 

And not till then will ambition retire, 
Death is the river that's found to be flowing around 

The toot of the mountain of Eternal Desire. 



DOWN DEEP IN THE WOODS. 



AMONG THE PINES. 



There is a quietness there that I love — 

And it isn't because the birds doesn't sing 
Just as sweetly as can be through all the long 

spring, 
It isn't because the bees doesn't hum 
Or the nightingale trill or the woodpeckers 

dram, 
It isn't because the squirrels doesn't chatter 
A{s on whiring wings the quail will scatter; 
It isn't because there is no cooing dove. 
For song comes both from earth and the skies 

above - 
The cricket is low but the eagle flies high^ 
An4 from perilous heijjhts resounds his cryj 
There is all this to charm aind I wonder why 
But there is a quietness there that I love. 



29 



f here IS a quietness there that I love 

And it isn't because the leaves dotsn't iall 
And rustle response when the breeaes call; 
It isn't because the brook is still 
j^or all day long there's the drip ol the rill • 
It isn't because there is no fairy tap 
Of the raindrop as it falls on the leafy mat. 
And it isn't because the herds doesn't low 
Through all the long evenings when soft winds 

blow, 
And the same winds waft sweet music to me, 
'Tis a gentle moan from those lofty trees. 
All this, and I wonder how it can be 

There is still that quietness there that I love. 

There is a quietness there that we love — 

High up in the mountains among those pines 
*Tis a blessing to come and linger a lime 
In this heav'n given spot for a tired mind 
Where we leave earthly trials and wo^s behind. 
Here we escape the rush of a weary throng 
That tbrotties and jostles the years along. 
We forget t)ie future, the past lies dead, 
VVe live t)^e fullness of the ''now" instead- 
Here among these hills, magnificently <dressed^ 
In the splendors, of forest natdre did h^r best. 
And we stroll at Tvill or we pause and rest, 

For there's a quietaess there that we love. 



30 



THE Chipmunks. 

I take cny book and I stroll down the giade, 
I settle myself in some spreading shade; 
But ere my thoughts to my story have gone 
A little visitor comes scampering along. 

Up over the log it pokes two tiny ears. 
Then a soft little bnnch of fur appears 
With stripes of gray and brown and black, 
All running lengthwise down its back. 

Now on her haunches primly erects 
My least sound or motion her eye will detect. 
Therefore I am silent, I want her to stay, 
If I move she will scurry away. 

Oh! Now you see me, I couldn't fool you, 
And here comes your mate, he's a wise one too, 
9ut he has no stripes, he's all gray but his hea<ii, 
And thats bigger and round and red- 

They both chatter and sauce as if plainly to say 
"See here, now Misses yOu go right away." 
And by their curt actions I know well and gdod 
That I'm not wanted 'round this nick o' the wood. 



31 



Mrs ohipmunk she scolds in her most terrible way. 
And ^r. Chipmunk he sanctioas all she has to say, 
i^ut if they were halt as brave as they think they are 
Surely neither would sit away quite so £ar. 

*'But now Mrs. Chipmunk, remember that 

If I could catch you I'd give you real love pat, 

And you, too, Mr. Chipmunk, but I know you'd 

resent. 
For to receive love pats you never was ment.** 

A flip, a leap, a bound f he is gone, 

Another flip and a le^p/lshe loUoWs along. 

Say I to myself as I sit in the shade 

"They're the most cunning things God ever made.** 



THE DEER. 

He is as swift as an Indian arrow^ 

He is as lithe as a willowreed, 
He is as graceful as any sparrow, 

Beauty is his, so fikte has decreed. 
He is as timid as any lambkin. 

He is as harmless as any dove. 
Yet he flees like the frightene4 birdling 

Even from the hand that would give him love. 



9% 



He is niijsble, sure footed and hardened 

To the pathless way he persues, 
Though he woul4 grace any parkway or g«rde« 

Solitudes of the wild he will choose. 
In his own state he is^ chiefest of rangrers, 

The mountains or plains know his tread, 
in ail nature he fe&rs not a danger. 

Though the crag or the cliff be bis bed. 

h thousand years hss been his to ramble, 

A thousand years has been his to roam 
Over mountain or meadow or bramble^ 

Through the haunts of his God given home. 
He has with-stood the torrents that rages, 

He has weathered the heat or the storm. 
His kind has come down through the ages, 

It was God's plan t'aat none do them harm 

But what is his aim or his misaon? 

I search and the answer I find. 
In this world he's to fill a position - 

Be a feast for the eyes qt mankind. 
Then why not leave him to his doty. 

Why don't man respect him, I s^? 
Admire him alone iot his beauty. 

And not seek him to slaughter and slay. 



89 



THE ASPEN LEAVES. 

Oh ye glimnoering, shinnmerinfir» shining things! 
Suspended in air by your fiber strings, 
Your tremelous with unrest all the day through. 
Was anything ever as unstable as you? 

Your powerless to resist the least pressure brought* 
And you vibrate with life if any is wrought, 
Your the soul of vivacity through and through, 
Was anything ever as high strung a's you? 

You delight to respond to the least breath of air. 
Your impatient with the bonds thats helding yoa 

there. 
Your impulsive, your sensitive and nervous tooi 
Was anything ever as emotional as you? 

Inactivity or calmness your heart nevtr knowS; 
You court agitation, you shun all repose ; 
Nothing is like you, unless it may be 
The throbbing eager masses ot humanity. 

As I sit in admiration, a sad mishap — 
One of those leaflet* fell prone into my lap, 
The bieeze became angry because they annoyed/ 
And smote with a lash that destroyed > 

I was sorry that a thing that had hved «o iiktenst 
Should be thus stricken down and neTerheBee 



S4 



Respire again the life passionate breath—^ 
Surely it was an untimely death. 

But I look for the vacant place on the tree, 
I discover none, neither do I see 
One single companion of that fallen leaf 
Who has retrained from his levity for grief* 

And that too, is like the great humanity — 
After all its as n*ture willed it should be. 
For death, whether in season or an untimely decease^ 
Is nought but the wjisping away of an aspen leaf» 



THE SONG OF ALL SONGS. 

In the quiet of the evening I sit by my door 

As the sun drops over yon hill; 
My hands are now idle for the day's toil is o'er. 

And the stress of all labor is still. 
But I long for something simple, my mind to enthuse* 

Something peaceful and soothing and calm. 
In the hush of the evening there comes to amuse 

A little songster and he sings an odd song. 
'Tis the hallowing tones of the gray whippowil^ 

In regularity and with reverence his call 
Rings over the vale or the crest of the hill. 

And the benediction 6f the day seems to fall. 



95 



Some say he is sad and he makes them feel lonely. 

Like tlieir happiness had met some defeat; 
8at-:;iOL SO; with me, he brings to me only 

A Jeeliug thats peacehil dnd sweet. 
T.'ioiigh melaneholy is his theme, it is in sweet accord 

Vv ith the settirxg of place and of time ; 
If be sings for a reason he finds his reward 

la the^csho jbhat comes back like a chime. 
He sings the broken chords and tis in a broken scale 

That the accompaniment is- set to* his ^'ori^'f 
^Tis the tickling. 1 Qf^bells-fchatiseefittS neVie^f to fail 

To join in and the soft rhythm prolong. 
They retire from the scene with the coming of the 
^ moon, 

And, as their last pathetic tones are gone, 
1 feel that evening bells play the the tune af all tunes. 

And the-whipipowil sings the song af all sbhgs^. 



Then a little later, -wji^en, t,he dark has closed down, 

And those tinkhng biells are all still; 
And the deeper .^ghadowsjiav^ fallen all 'i^und, 

And hushed is the. whippowil> 
Then another sp«^g^tieriX#mejSbvpnto the stage. 

Solemn and profound^^he song he «iig»J 
He is most ^^c^urMe,; 4ew>i»ty bis .voice • hollow as with 
age, 

And to the deep minor keys he clings. 



S6 



And in the baf^o cieff the song is not Ught, 

It tells of the sad and the grave; 
It belongs to the dark, *tis part of the night. 

It seems to echo through the valts of a cave. 
As the songster dwelves to the deepest of themes, 

*Tis a dirge that he sings mthout tune; 
And down in my soul I feel that he means 

To remind me of death and the tomb. 
And the accompaniment too seems wird and old, 
■iBor *tis played by the breath of the winds; 
It is softened by use, for through ages untold 

It has blown through the trunks of the pines. 
Now it rises to pitch in a grand prelude. 

Now it sinks to a wail or a moan; 
It is wonderfully harmonious with the sonigster's mood, 

And the sounds mingle in marvelous atone. 
As they touch the deep chords ot the nocturn there 
looms 

Before me visions of things long agone; 
Then I think that the winds play the tune of all tune^, 

And the owl sings the song of all songs. 

As the Jast doleful sounds of that dirge dies away 

A wealth of melody ftomes to my ear; 
Some si i very tongued songster in his beautiful lay. 

Softly, sweetly, yet wonderfiiUy clear. 
*TJs the light, the fantastic, the fai^y like strains^ 

Tis pare rhythm that ialls on the air; 



S7 



lite very essence of hp^imony is in the refrain, 

The warbler's notes are select and rare. 
In the choicest of sonates he seems to delight. 

He is eloquent to the extreme; 
He is enchanting, yet retiring and his tancy takes flight 

In only the sweetest of themes. 
With the cool balmy night he is fully in tune. 

And he sings his most ^harming lay 
In unaccented measi^res, and he seems to commune 

With the spirit of the departed day. 
The murmuring brogik plays the solo part. 

By it the gentle little chorister is led, 
It commands the listen?? for *tis a masLter of the art, 

And the., harp isjts own. pebbly bed:. • 
It dashes off the. i?eriation^ in venous styles, 

It jipples through the measures with.^ ease; . ^ 
Even the blithe little songster it charms and beguilesi 

The shrewdest of critics such classics would please. 
As my entertainers have chased away air the gloom 

Of the night, and they too to their rest have gonei 
Then I know that the brook plays the tune of all 
tunes, 

And the nightiogale sings the song of all songs. 



Si 



THE Contemptible little thing! 



Two lovers wondered, they parlied and pondered 

Alon^ the cool pathway that led through the wood; 
As true lovers always find they have plenty of time 

They loitered as true lovers should. . 
He^as somewhat confused by the fear that she'd 
refuse 

If the all important question he'd ask; 
For any man to propose, it is hard, goodness knows, 

But for this one 'twas a terribly task. 
But she was so prepossessing 'twas high time he was 
pressing 

His suit, for there was a chance that he'd lose herj 
Tho he couldn't make haste, he showed excellent taste 

When he decided in his heart that he'd choose her. 
But excited? Not she, she was calm as could be, 

Seems she was never ruffled in her life; 
Her repose was inspirable, it made her more desirable, 

*T would be a delightful characteristic in a wife. 
She had a wealth of brown hair, her face was so fair 

He knew there was no powder or paint; 
Her eyes, dreamy blue, her name, suggestive too, 

For ''Cecilia" could be applied to a saiot* 
Her smile was all sweetness', she was a model of neat- 
''- '■■'■■■ nesfev •''-' '^ ■" ' ■■ ■ ■' ' • - 

Justly proud /and quite fastedious you see; 
As for hei dress it was inodede less. 

Which means the,]peck w^s cut dowo in a vee. 



»9 



Slie wag taodest aud meek^ and whenever she'd speak 

Her voice was low and somewhat sy mpath^ing. 
And because of that vee the lover could see 

A throat and a chest that was most tantaHzing. ^ 
Her hands dimpled and white, so slender seemed ^te 

As it they possessed only the strength of |i ehild; 
She had grace smd dignity and no wonder that he ^ 

Was in love with this maiden so mild. 
A cool shady grott was surely the spot/ 
With a gieen mossy bank for a seat; 
A made to order back was a log and alack ! 

This lover was now ready to speak. 

He was trembly as could be^ but — a glimpse of that 
• vcc— 

He ventured ^ *^*X)ear Cecilia I love yoOi 
If you will be nxine 1*11 worship at your shrine, 

This whole world will hold nothing above you - " 
He was pausing for ^eath when a look most like 
death 

Came over the maiden's fair face, 
No dreaminess there W a maniac st^re 

Thai regrestered no thing, no person, no place. 
Poor ' mail, didn^t mean to offend, he would apologize t 
but then '' ' ' 

Behold' the poor girl had gone mad; 
And right at the time wheA' hiei'd managed to find 

Courage to 'fetfH of his lt>v^^**^ how sad > 
She leapt'd t6'hel*fe6t. She- WAs^ white lw« sheet, 

^s ii suddenly possessed by a spell) 



40 



A soft voice have I said? Well, she near raised the 
dead 

When she let out that most ear splitting yell. 
In maddening haste she began tearing at her waist, 

Gone her dignity, her meekness and repose, 
Any one could see she was crazy as could be, 

P'or she deliberately ripped off a part of her clothe* 
"What's the matter, dear child, you're acting most 
wild? 

Do tell me, for goobness sake ! 
I am here, don't you see? Don't undress before me! 

Tell me, have you been bitten by a snake?" 
He tried to hold her hand but she managed to land 

A terrijfic blow on the side of his nose; 
That hand, though so slender, was quite a capable de- 
fender, 

Who'd ever dream she could strike such a blow? 
She continued to scream in a manner that seemed 

'Twould penetrate for miles around; 
In the stress and turmoil her hair loosened irom the 
coil. 

And some of it fell to the ground. 
Her raving was terrible to witnes, it was surely not 
fitness 

For the companion to be obliged to survey; 
Through pure modestj, respect and courtesy 

To avoid her unedifying conduct he turned away. 
I'm not castiKg reflections when I say her eomplectioit 

Was blotched and smeared and she stood in a daiCc 



41 



Whea finally the calm tell like a balm, 

A sorry sight met the young lovers g:aze. 
"Heavens! Never again!" thought he, but then 

On her face such a dejected look; 
Love and consideration when he saw the provocation 

Of her plight, and a new aspect things took. 
Now, as the question's arose, what do you suppose 

Was the cau§e of all that commotion? ., , - 
A little green frog that had sat on the log 

And become inspired by that lover's devotion. 
And now you will know that froggie wasn't as slow 

As that lover, and too, you'll agree 
That it was most very rude fcH* him to intrude 

By hopping i£own into that vee. 



THE BROOKLET. 



'*The brooklet and I are friends" say L 
But now me tliinks I hear that wee voice which pre- 

vukingly will say — 
"How be it, for age is old and grim but youth is young 

and gay? 
How can a thing of youthiulness care to court or pay 
Friendship to a thing of age, 'tis a mystery I pray? 
When the one revels in happiness the other alwa^ps 

droll, forlorn; 
Fhe one breathes out his gladness, the other seemingly 

lives to mounit, 
And the youth is ever laughing but the aged will onlr 



4$ 



scorn; 
And no harmony between the two is e'er conceived or 
born." 
"Bat the brooklet and I are friends." say I. 



**Ah, the brooklet and you are friends, you say? 
And yet a thousand years or more iierhaps, to him has 

come and gone 
Since the brooklet in his infancy sang his youthful 

song. 
And mimicked much or scoffed at them - the count- 
less teaming throng 
That tread his banks or loitering played where he g^> 

ly speeds along. 
Yet the brooklet and you are friends? Ah me, good 

friends you, lor sooth 
And long, long since he's had his age and you stilJ 

have your youth. 
Don't let him mock or tantahze or court or speak you 

smpothe, 
For his tones are highly bewitching but his flattery 

holds no truth." 
•"But the brooklet and I are friends** say I. 

Yes the brooklet and I are friends— good friends. 
*TiS to him 1 go if I teel a dread or the day is sad and 

drear. 
As yet his soothing has not failed, be bids me be. o£ 

cheer; 
Or if I know the gayer hours he too, will lend an ear. 
He gives to all my changing moods, he is a fricul 

sinsere . 



43 



'A friend sincere, indeed- " again that wee small 

voice finds vent, 
"And ail these years have idly flown, in foolish prattle 

his life is spent. 
And now he's old but you are young, take not his 

motto of such poor intent, 
His time is waste but the future yours, employ it for 
betterment." 
*'But the brooklet and I are friends." say I. 

Yes, the brooklet and I are friends true friends. 
And to this friend for council I deem it privilege to 

SQ, > 

How oft' I seek his confidence, *tis comforting to 

know 
That I have one of such ability and experience, for lo 
A thousand years he's counciled others in his ceaseless 

ebb and flow. 
True, he has his age and I, have yet my period of 

time, 
His voice is still all cheerfulness, I heed his merry 

rhyme ; 
And in his continual babbling I hear a theme, so fine, 
*Tis faithfulness and constancy, they are friendship's 

gifts, sublime. 
Yes, the brooklet and I are friends — true friends. 

Oh brooklet wc are frieads -^ real friends ! 

Now undisturbed and peacefully we council, jusft we 

two, . ,.• . /.. .,, 

With no wee voice to chide me or bid me be untrue; 



^ 



For years have swiftly vanished, my allotted period 

lived most through, 
And in my aonfirmed unstableness I turn again to you. 
Now I see. O murmuring brooklet, ^tis you that's 

young, so young. 
In the trend of age and ages your life has just begun; 
And I, it is, that's old, so old, my course is almost 

run, 
Yet Id all my stupid soliloquy never a taunt you've 

flung. 
Oh brooklet, wc are frienbs— real friends. 



PARODIC, 



THEN OR NOW? 

i think when I view those §rand portraits of old, 
When our grandsires were here among men; 

In their outlandish garbs they were sights to behold « 
I should like to have been living then. 

Modest ladies in bodice, tight sleeves and hoop skirts, 
In cocked hats and knee pants, all the men; 

Buckled slippers, powdered hair and those beruffled 
shirts, 

iVd sure like to have been living then. 

But wl^en I view the curt damsels of the i^resent day. 

As they sally forth with their skirts cut so short; 
In their flimsy furbolows there's a grander display 

Of "crural" shapes of all sizes and sorts. 
And I'm sure 1 speak the sentiment of all men — 

Tho they, themselves dress more sensible FIl aildw^ 
In a choice of feminine fads of the 'now** or the 
"then/* 

They're all glad that they live in the **now.'* 



4S 



UNAVAILABLE. 

The story is done and the scratching pen falk 

From the hand that writes, 
As the sledge hammer is thrown downward 

By the smithy "^long toward night. 
I see the delight in the editor face 

As he scans the pages of that scrip; 
And a feeling of gladness comes o'er me, 

That my soul cannot resist. 
A teeiing of gladness and triumph 

That is nigh akin to pain; 
And will depart irom me only 

When he sends the MS back again. 



THE SPORTSMAN, 

This is the primitive man, civilization feign 

Would for centuries have tamed. 

To him its virtues sings 
Around him a net- work of laws it ftings 
That draws him onward, upward toward higher things j 

Thus he is attracted and will find 
Content and pleasure in its precepts only for a time. 

The web of binding laws slightly unfurled. 

Into a tupjult of desire his brain is whirled. 
It bursts asunder from the cell 



47 



Where in the hum-drum life he had bid it dwell, 
And strove to eonform it to a more stately shell; 

Before him lies revealed 
The quenchless fires of savage passion, now unsealed. 

Useisss then to try, this curbing of his soul, 

For as the open seasons roll 

Kesolutely he sets out 
For bruin, roe-buck, ducks, geese or trout, 
And not until he slays will he turn himself about; 

Thus he gratifies his will 
Ia the antics of the cave man, for he is a cave man 
still. 



PRICE-$4.99 

Be still poor man and cease repining) 

In your old gray coat she stitched a new lining; 

Your fate is but the common fate of all^ 

You never get any new clothes at all; 

But wiiie must have her silk stockings. 

THE TOE DANCER 

Tripping, tripping, little star 
Bancing beauty, that you are; 
As you whirl and twirl and flip and fly, 
Pny how can you kick so high? 



48 



MOVIES-MOVE-US 
(a Modern Tk anatopsis) 



To one who in the love of the movies, seeks 

To enter her mysterious relrns, she speaks 

A serious language; for his more hopeful hours 

She has a voice that calls him. a thrill, 

She is eloquent with confidence; and she glides 

into his darker moments with that mild 

And sweet assurance, that steals away 

The disappointment ere he is aware- When thoughts 

Of the last bitter prospects comes like a blight 

Over thy spirit, and the sad image 

Of grim despair, thwarted plans, gloom 

And the breathless longing for the slightest chance 

Makes thee to shudder and gro97 sick at heart, 

Go forth into the movie park, and list the 

Director's teachings, while from all round — 

The park drives, the lakelets and the depths of 

Shrubbery comes his loud, thrill voice. Yet a few 

Hours and thee, the all beholding spectacle shall see 

No more with all its discourse; nor yet on this 

Trampled ground where the senseless scene 

Was enacted with much ado, nor in the emdraec 



49 



Of gallai-ies, shcill exist these actor Images. 

Dramas that thrilled them, shall claim 

Their talent to be as null and void again; 

And lost each movie trace, surrendering up 

Their ibidividual costoms. they shall go 

To mix forever with the common herd; 

To be a brother to the uncultured smith. 

And to the sluggish tramp, which the rude farmer 

Turns from his door, and thus scorns upon. The 

Manager will send new talant down to confiscate 

His roll. Yet not unto this eternal private life 

Shall one retire alone - or could one wish 

A life more uninteresting. Thou shalt retire 

With the brave patriarchs of the infant reels, with 

Stars, the comedians of the art, the bad, the good. 

Successful doobs and failf|urs grand of former shows, 

All in one forgotten caravan. The hills, 

Trodden and paraphernalia strewn where they parlied 

Long, the vale stretching in clever caraoflage between, 

The make believe woods, the rivers that move when 

The camera moves and the artifica! brooks that 

Completes the muddled scene and pours out ixom 

The nozzle of some dilapidated hose; 

Are but the solemn commemorations all 

Ot the great grief if the left-outs. All that tread 

The movie stage are but a handful to the tribe 



50 



That clammors ior ailaiiiU,i;u*e. i ake the ^vinJi,s 

Of inorningj the 'lojiw Desert pierce, 

Or lose thyself iti the continuous sands 

Where rolls the Sunset Limited, and hear no sounds 

Save its own rumhliiijys yet the movie man is there; 

And millions in those solitudes since first 

The art of films began, have hovered near 

For a mere peek, dead hopes reign there alone. 

So shall they all fail; but what if thou should retire 

Unnoticed by the manager and no fellow candidate 

Take note of thy great ambition? All that aspire 

Shall share thy destiny. The amature will strive 

When thou art gone, the solemn brood of applicants 

Plod on, and each one, as before, will chase 

His favorite pantomime; Yet all these shall leave 

The scenes of their employment, and shall come 

Aiad meet their fate like thee. As the long trend 

Ol tape is rolled around, the child of Graze, the youth 

In his ambitious age, and he who performs 

In the full strength of his dramatic days, the maiden, 

Old maid, the grizzly aged, the speechless babe, whose 

Mother alone knows the superior talent of its innocent 

Life, shall one by one be gathered to thy side. 

By those who in their turn shall follow them. 

So live in hopes, and when thy summons comes to join 

The unenumerable caravan that wends its way 

To that unavoidable end- where each shall take 



51 



His chamber in the crowded halls of failure, 
Thou go not, like the great majority. 
Crestfallen to thy doom, but sustained and soothed 
By a lingering faith in thyself, approach thy certain 
Destination, like one who wraps the drapery of 
His fancy costume about him. and sails out before 
The lens. 



i3 



ECHOES OF WAR. 



WHAT'S TRUMPS 



In the contest around the table . 

''What's trumps" is the question asked, 
"What's trumps" is all important, 
In this world's gigantic task. 



In which clubs represent law, hearts reprisent love, 
diamonds represent money and spades represent labor. 

I am clubs, I'm trumps — 
I have reference not to such little things 
As decks of cards with queens an4 kings, 
But of a power that holds and sways 
A. people to its stringent ways. 
I am law for subjects all, 
I send them at my beck and call. 
Whether of state, religion, home or school, 
*Tis law that wields controlling raid. 
Law J by right and honor hound. 
Stretching the whole world around 



53 



No difference of what race or clinae, 
I am the club that whips things into line- 
Respect me ! King of Clubs is trumps. 



Nay. nay, King Ckibs, I'm hearts! I'm trumpS" 
Whal other power has ought to say 
When hearts are holding sway? 

I speak ot love, of tenderness; 

All the world I've sought to bless; 

And a people heeded me 

Before law or state aspired to be. 
It was even through ray just dictations 
That law and rule became creations ; 
And at my bidding both have tumbled. 
Into dusl their castles crumbled- 
I am a higher power, but I place no bans, 
I murmur not, make no demands. 
Greater I than court or king, 
I simply to the abstract cling. 

I'm Queen ot Hearts, I rule the world, 
Honor me, I'm trumps- 

I am diamonds. I am trumps - 
diamonds, though such little things, 
What a weight of prestige brings. 

I speak of concentrated wealth, 
And I rule the world by stealth. 
In this glittering soul of mine 
The very essence of Value" shine. 
And no man as yet has turned roe down. 
Not even for love of state or crown. 



54 



Law — what H law! \M\o has not decerned 
That 'tis merchandise when I'm conceraedr 
For the vehicles of law I've bought 
And sold, without a thought. 

^nd the populace is not deceived 

If value is not received. 
Yea, even good Queen Hearts has fell 
Before? my dazzling spell 
forgotten her own just precepts 
When our pathways intercept. 
With law and love I 'play the duce/' 
I appropriate, without excuse 
Their ideals lor abuse or use- 
Diamonds, whether great or small, 
Hold the highest goal of all. 

•Attewtioxn ! I am trumps. 



I am fepades. I'm trumps — 
I speak of toil, back to the soil — 
A slogan that's forever droned 
But a foolish people was never known 
To follow precepts of such lowly cast. 
In loftier themes they have amassed. 

Though law or love or wealth may rule, 
I, spades, have been the despised tool 
Yet, patiently I've bid ray time. 
Nor have I been of idle mind; 
For diligently I've dug the graves 
Ot all the worlds most esteemed braves. 
While man has scorned ray low estate, 
I've plodded on, but now of late — 



5jI 



Guided by the human hand, 

I'na digging trenches tor most every land. 

That law may exist, that hearts may beat, 

Money now hes at ray feet. 

I've libored long without a sigh, 

But now men hear my age old cry. 
They scoff not at the way I've trod. 
They embrace me now and turn the sod; 
That a vine, a tubor, a stalk might grow. 
A»d the hungrv nations know 
The comforts of a full repast, 
Lo I'm conqueror at last. 

Salute me, I am spades. Ace high! 



PATRIOTISM IN HOBO LAND. 

I 

Well now 4on't you know Tm just a hobo. 

But if Uncle Sammie should call on me 
To get into the fight to protect his right 

And the flag on the land and the sea; 
I'm right here to say I'd get into the fray. 

Be a soMier? Well I should smile! 
And them foreign jinks I'd put on the blink, 

I know 1 can lick the whole pile. 

I know I am slow and I've made no show 

Ol money, education or pride, 
And. though I don't blow any where I go, 

Tthere's one thing I never can hide* 

56 



You may talk patriotic, well I guess we've all got it, 

And I just as much as the rest; 
And when it comes to the scratch I guess 1 can match 

And march right in line with the best. 

Although I don't own the ghost of a home. 

Not a chick or a child in creation; 
'Tis a privlege to be in this land of the free, 

And to it I owe obligation. 
And now don't you know, if I am a hobo, 

I'll tell you this on the dead level. 
If my country needs me right there I will be, 

And I'll stand up and tight like the devil- 

JUST TOYS 



There was a little boy 
And he had a little toy 

Daddie gave him — a big pop gun, 

Well he surely played the dickens, 
He was chasin' all the chickens; 

All the dogs and all the cats were on the run. 
But the boy was quite ambitious, 
And his gun was not so vicious. 

As the one his daddie had up in the rack; 

He climbed up snd pulled the trigger, 
And because that gun was bigger. 

Well - that little boy he never did climb back. 



57 



Now there was some bigger boys, 
An*^ they had some bigger toys', 
fMotttin' 'fouad, they called'em submarines. 
They was Hckin' all the nations, 
I'hey was goin' to rule creation, 
All the lands and all the waters in between. 
They took a pop at Uncle Samuel, 
Says ITnple Samuel "I will lam you," 
lit' got busy arjd was soon hot upon their track; 
When Uucle Sammie pulled the trigger, 
Just because his guns were bigger- 
Well them little "subs" they never will come back. 



A COMRADE, TRUE. 

Tensed, and faces drawn with emotion 

The little group stood on the front walk; 
There were only a few moments left them. 

But It seemed difficult to talk 
Uear daddy, so proud of him, but aow thoughtful. 

To clasp tightly the hand of his boy, 
^ nd then came his dear little mother, 

He, the light of her lite, and her joy. 
And sister, she had forgotten all his teasing. 

She now beheld him, a hero grand> 
And little Joe, how he, too, longed to go» 

Seemed endless years before he,d be a man. 
All gathered to say a fond iareweil 

To the tall soldier boy so tair; 
And there was one other — but no, he coald not, 

A least, not light then, or there* 

Sa 



As the lad turned aside in departing. 

They all strove tneir emotion to hide, 
Bat Jdck, having received no farewell pat, 

Took his place at his master's side. 
'Here Jack! Here Jack ! You come right back, 

See here now, you can't go! " 
Those moments had been such trying ones, 

Nobody could speak but Joe 
The old dog halted reluctantly, then 

Looked questioningly into his master's face, 
No word — but in wisdom the answer sensed, 

A.od he preceded to. move on a pace- 
"iNo, Jack! Now you must stay right here!" 

But Jack, like a soldier grand. 
Marched on - he took no order from a subordinate 

When a "superior" was in command' 

On 4own the path, dog and master. 

Walking briskly, just those two. 
And the reason of the master's silence 

None but the the little mother knew. 
And, as the gate clanged to behind them. 

The boy felt never a doubt nor a tear. 
Nor did hf^ know that it had closed forever 

Upon himself and his loved ones dear. 
On down the dusty road he hastened. 

In the tears he could no longer hide. 
Nor did he care, tor there was none to see them, 

Only Jack, pacing along at his side. 
As it has eveir been in all historyi 

Man, facing his fellow man, 

59 



VViil stifle all semblance of weakness, 
But old Jack, he would understand. 

They rounded the curve, they passed from view, 

And a full twenty minutes had flown 
Ere the poor old dog came sauntering back, 

And again appeared at the saddened home. 
As he walked up the pathway, the bright sunlight 

Fell lull on his big shaggy ears, 
And there vyas glistening, something Hke crystals, 

Made by the falling of tears. 
jast a happening, that lack hadn't shaken them off. 

But they had clung like drops of dew ; 
And none but the little mother saw them there, 

And none but the little mother knew. 
He sought a quiet place among the shady vines, 

ud soou he was fast asleep; 
He was all unconscious that he had revealed 

The secret his master wanted to keep. 

Presently the sun hung low o'er tl^e western hills, 

Jack aroused and sauntered .down, to the gate, 
The accustomed place for awaiting his master. 

Whether he came early or whether he came late. 
But this evening Itihe master did not return. 

And not for a year and a day 
Did they receive the sad, sad message, 

Telling them their loved one had gone to stay. 
They ceased the waiting and watching, 

They grieved, but each of them knew 

60 



Th:-\t old Jack" was vi^Jfilatitly keeping, 

A compact made between comrads true. 

When down by the gate he takes his place. 
And will each evening to his dying day: 

He is waiting the return of his master, 
And no one ever calls him away. 



PURGED, 

'*Thou wast perfect in thy ways from the 
day that thou wast created, till iniquity 
was found in thee." Ezek, xxviii. 



Likened unto a bride, Oh beautiful world, 

Ot all planets you're the elect — the one 
Chosen to be queen of all those that's whirled 

Around the majestic throne of King Sun, 
You joined the capricious dance his majesty to please, 

In the grand arena you lei out in the glide. 
Aad he SAniled upon you on that wedding diy eve, 

As a bridegroom would smile upon his bride. 

Then, O world, you was bedecked in the eraaeulate 
gown, 

Befitting your high place and your tame. 
When God willed that you wear the invaluable crown 

Of perfectiom and a bride you became. 
Then you changed from the virgin's snowy array 

61 



To the more roya' robes of the throne, 
And even King Sun bowed on that coroaation day 
When he heralded and proclained you his own. 

But since, O Queen World, countless ages have gone, 

And your King has been true all the while; 
He has clad you in the warmth of his love all along, 

And you've bathed in the wealth of his smile. 
But tis you. Queen World, who has broken the faith, 

You have forgotten your God and done wrong, 
For you're drunk with the glories of the imperial 
place. 

That yo«2 hold in that universal throng- 

Your pace has been swift, you've reveled, you've 
brawled, 

For centuries you've been reeking in lust, 
The most hideous crimes your soul has enthralled, 

You've trailed your royal robes in the dust. 
Mot only the dust, but their drenched with the blood 

Of your own children that have been slain, 
With your own hands you've plunged . thepi ^into the 
flood , 

Ot sin, that engulfs in its train. 

You gave them war as a destruetable toy, 
And you laughed when they used it so well. 

You have giveii them the will and the means to destroy 
Their very /wuls that you*Ve seAt ddwn to hell- 

i2 



Yo'i trample their bodices like disgusting swiue. 
Or you cuddle them in your hilarious org, 

And you drink from their skulls the red, red wine^ 
lour lap is now but a gruesome morgue- 

As twas written that eve» the heavens would queer^ 

And the planets would wail out in time- 
And a myriad of tailing stars be the tears 

That they'd weep o'er the scenes of your crime- 
It has been so that even King Sun hid his face. 

And blushed in confusion and shame 
At your vile conduct and the vulgar disgrace 

That you've wrapped around his kingdom's fair 
iname . 

'Tis but a little while, then under that rod 

Ot justice aod right you'll be lain, 
And though stripped you'll leer and defy Holy God 

In the clensiog of your person from stain. 
Queen world you will tremble and quake when you're 
scurged, 

For the deperdition and mischief you've wrought, 
But under that rod you'll be thoroughly purged, 

Into a life of decency and light you'll be brought. 

Then again, Queen World, in that snowy array, 
You'll be draped in that emaculate gown 

That was yours on that proud coronation day 
When periectioa was given you as a crown. 

6S 



Tlieii a more holy haad will place on youi brow 
Another crown;, peace and love ^twill proclaim. 

At the teet of the All-High Adomer you'll bow, 
And throughout eternity you'll worship His name.. 



WHAT BECAME OP THE SLACKERS. 

(the cow, THE S«)W, AND THE HEN.) 

There was an old cow and there was an old sow and 
a beautifully bespeckled old hen, hned up for a talk 
by the old board walk that led through the muck of 
their pen. It was serious thoughts that together had 
brought those wisened individuals of that dusty old 
farm, to rebel against bardarity of man toward poster- 
ity of their kind, it was surely no harm. 

Said the ancient old cow "I'll tell you right now, 
I've no use for this talk of extra production and 
though prices on beef are bound to increase, in the 
number of my calves there'll be a reduction Count- 
iu' twins I*ve had twenty and that'^ .surely a plenty, 
every one of them came to great grief, and I'm not 
goin' to have any more little calves' to be chopped up 
and sold out for beef-" 

Said the gfunty old sow "Well now I *Uow, I'U be 
expected to teed half the nation, for pork's in demand 
throughout the whole land and tliey'U kill every pig 

64 



in creation. Tl'iough I've had more than two score 
they re still wivaiUi' more, but I guess I'll have some- 
thing to sa5^, they'll not get another one, not a daagU- 
ter or son, from this sow for to slaughter and slay." 

Said the hea, as she scratched, "I'm not goin' to 
hatch another young brood lor this farm, and I'm not 
goia' to lay another egg to pay for the feed I get out 
of that barn. I've raised hundreds of chickens, I've 
mstled their pickia', I've slaved in that old dung 
heap. I've put in ray time that my young ones might 
shine but Irom now on all I find I'm goin' to eat." 

"We'll s'-rike" said the cow, "We'll striks" said 
the sow, "We'll strike" said the old speckled hen. so 
they all three retired and they couldn't be hired to 
have any more offsprings, and then — 'They're so old 
we can' I breed'era, so its no use to feed'em," said the 
farmer one bright summer day, " A.S they're no good 
to me, I'll sell the whole three, ray bill at the butch- 
ers to pay." 

"iNow as long as you send a lot of your men," said 
Great Britain, Belgium and France, "Send plenty of 
food and we'll surely make good, we'll teach the old 
Kaiser to dance." So the butcher he bought and the 
butcher he sold and a ship load went over the sea, 
Ameiican meat was a very fine treat and the soldiers 
were aj ighty *' hungree. ' ' 



6d 



The Tammies they grabbed gre-M hutik? aaJ ^reat 
slabs of that beef Btei': th it neve!" eoild be chawed 
whether a stew or a fry, it was do use to try, though 
they gaa^red aud they gnawed aad they gnawed. No 
one dared to stop to try the pork chop for the Britons 
were oa full retreat, though it was a great shame there 
was no one to blame il the enemy confiscated their 
meat. 

"They may call you a Iovy] but you're tougher' an 
an owl." (the accent was decidedly French) "You 
might be a pullet but you'll make a fine bullet to pop 
iiito the enemies trench "' So the Kienchie he ram- 
med, he poked and he jamraed amunition. 'twas a 
brand new production, and without beauty or grace 
an old hen flew through space, and wrought awful 
and horribk destruction. 

Now it fell to the Kaiser, the pesky old guyser, to 
gather those fragments of m^;at, and though it looked 
rather roughj it woiild be q'lite enough the whole of 
his armie:5 to treat. So they feasted and fared and 
not a morsel was spared, now wouldn't that rattle 

• '.■.,•,11! l^^. ■ • ' ■ ' 

your slats, the gol darned stuff was so terrible tough j 
with indigestion they all died -off like rats. 

Now, would you suppose, if the qvieistioQ, ,^rose^ as 
to just why the Kaiser got thrashed, ,'twas, l^caus&^fiii) 
American cow, a hen and a sow was served up in a 



66 



Teutoaic hash And it just seems to me that we'd 
ought to thank thee, oh thou cow and thou sow and 
thou old hen doodle, you elegant three as a grand 
trinity, just wiped out the whole caboodle. 



TO THE AMERICAN FLAG. 



The dear old flag, I love it, 

There's nothing stands above it; 

To me it speaks of liberty, 

Bravery, justice and purity. 

You see I know its emblems, 

And ever will deiend them. 

Flag, victorious, flag all glorious, 

Embellishing earth's greatest natioftal shfioe. 



m 



CONCLUSION. 



THIS BOOK. 



**Thuiik/' writ and rhymed 

All by my lonely. 

Set, pressed and spiked 

Ail by myself too; 

And this final scribble 

Will be seen by those only 

Who have had the good nature 

To read the thing through. 

Sentimental and silly 

And some quite pathetic, 

Patriotic, nature's logic, 

And man's logic too; 

A verse now and then 

Along the line of phrophetic, 

No index, no appendix, 

Contents left to you. 

Some good, some bad. 

Some perfectly rotten; 

All "thunk/' writ and rhymed 

By one and the same, 

All quickly read 

But taore quickly forgotten, 

Ahid iiow in t^e end 

I beg to remam , 

Yowrs truly 

Mn. M. McNamar 



8I6T 

sr 

9Z9Z Sd 



